Lucky Stars
by Shalla Bal
Summary: Takes place after the episode "Moonshot." Overwhelmed and worried after investigating her future timeline, Amaya runs into an increasingly shaky and traumatized Mick. As they confide in one another, they find solace and their relationship deepens. Vixenwave, a.k.a. Mixen!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Maybe you**

Amaya pressed her lips together, a haze of tears clouding her view of the screens displaying her future and that of her family, her village. It had been an impetuous and ill-advised decision to see what her timeline held; even Gideon had warned against it. The temptation to learn the truth after Nate's hints about her fate had compelled her forward, past the down-to-earth common sense that typically kept her more hasty instincts in check.

The idea that some truths about her which were known to Ray and now Nate, truths that dictated her entire destiny, could be so well understood by others, members of her team, but hidden from herself had made Amaya feel painfully blinded and powerless, emotions that she could not stand.

But now she had to wonder if she'd made an awful mistake. Could knowing this information influence every choice she made from that moment on? How could it _not_ , after all? And in trying to ensure that she didn't damage her correct timeline, might Amaya actually misstep at just the right moment, in just the right way to destroy what ought to be, and ruin her family's fate? Then her brave, heroic granddaughter, the one Ray so admired, (and rightfully so judging by all she'd learned) might never exist.

Heavy thoughts of these matters distracted her enough that as she headed out of the library and back to her quarters, she walked smack into Mick Rory, who had been coming from the opposite direction.

"Where'd you come from?" Mick asked distractedly, steadying Amaya with strong arms as she furrowed her brow.

"How did I manage _that_?" She wondered aloud, using a slight laugh to cover her miserably jumbled state of mind.

"Don't ask me," he replied in that gravely, slow voice of his that seemed to caress each word, "It's basically the same as walking into a brick wall."

Amaya gave into a chortle at that, grateful to him for puncturing her uptight mood and letting a little oxygen back in.

Mick leaned down and picked up a pair of glasses he'd dropped on the floor when they collided. He slipped them back on and Amaya noticed for the first time that he was also wearing a suit, and looked rather… _hmmm_ …

 _Nice_. That was the right word for it, surely. She wouldn't want to acknowledge to herself that the first adjective which had sprung all-too-instantly and irresistibly to her mind had been _sexy_.

"Dunno why I bothered putting these back on," Mick mumbled, taking the glasses back off and looking at them in his hand. "I kinda liked this disguise for some reason. Maybe I like _all_ the disguises. But this one in particular."

"You look very dapper," Amaya assured him with a warm smile and a pat on his arm. Even in her overwhelmed state of mind, she couldn't help feeling that strange pull towards him she'd noticed more and more lately.

He laughed sharply. "I look a little less like a loser than usual," he said. "I think that's it, that's why I enjoy the disguises. It feels like an escape from myself." Mick's eyes widened and he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Don't you?" Amaya asked, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows. "We're friends, Mick, why wouldn't you confide in me?"

"I don't have—" Mick started the disclaimer instinctively, but Amaya cut him off briskly.

"Don't give me that 'I don't have friends' nonsense again," she said sharply, but then her voice softened. "And you're not a loser, by the way. You're a Legend. Do you want to go somewhere and talk? I could honestly use a friend at the moment myself."

Mick shrugged, and she could tell how hard his true wishes were fighting against his need to sink back into the abyss of uncaring. "I guess that would be okay…as long as you don't tell anyone about it."

"Tell anyone that you were feeling a bit lost and needed to confide in a friend?" Amaya smiled again and shook her head affectionately. "Never. My lips are sealed." She slung an arm around Mick's broad shoulders as they strode away, and found that she was feeling a little better already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: A brand new light in my soul**

"What in God's name is _this_?" Amaya asked as they stepped into Mick's quarters. She looked around at the piles of clothes on the floor and the shelves stacked with random junk.

"Oh," Mick said, his face lighting up with realization, like he'd actually forgotten what a disaster area his room was. "Sorry," he added, scooping the clothes up in his arms. He looked back and forth for a place to put them, then opened the closet, tossed them in, and closed the door.

Amaya laughed and shook her head, sinking into a chair beside his bed and then reaching under herself to pull out a sock, which thankfully happened to be clean. " _Really_?" she asked him, collapsing back into giggles, tipping her head forward with the thrust of her amusement.

"Neat and tidy isn't exactly my thing," Mick admitted, adding the sock to the pile of confusion clogging his closet. He glanced over at the ridiculous leaning tower of laundry Pisa and chuckled.

He sat down on the bed and shrugged. "Sharing… _feelings_ "—he grimaced and flinched — "ain't exactly my style either. I don't know why I keep…" Mick's voice faltered slightly. He look the glasses off and laid them beside him somewhat affectionately.

"Why you keep opening up me? Why you keep _wanting_ to?" Amaya put in softly. She put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Probably for the same reason that I keep opening up to you. Because I want to. It brings me comfort. And laughing with you makes me happy."

Mick's brown eyes widened again, this time in perplexity. "You have Heywood to talk to, though."

Amaya's face fell, her contented smile giving way to a conflicted frown. "I did for a while there, but now?" She thought about the situation with Nate, their sort-of romance that never really was. _Really_ thought about it for the first time since their recent arguments. Had a serious relationship with Nate actually been something that she wanted, or was it just an insubstantial and convenient fling? She knew the answer. "I think that's over now."

"You don't want to…. _talk_ to him anymore?" Mick asked, as if he wasn't sure how to go about posing the question he was really wondering.

Amaya blushed. "I just meant that…I don't think I want to be in an intimate relationship with him. Anymore."

"Right," Mick acknowledged, swallowing hard and looking anywhere but into Amaya's eyes.

A heavy moment passed without either of them finding words to put to the residual emotions created by her announcement. Then he added, "Is that why you're having a bad day?"

"That's part of it," Amaya explained. Thinking again of the future she'd watched unfolding on the ship's computer screens, she blinked back tears that automatically sprang into her eyes.

"Hey, do you want…" Mick scanned the room somewhat helplessly. "A lukewarm beer, or some chips?"

The tears spilled onto her cheeks, but Amaya burst out in laughter, wiping them away. "How thoughtful of you! No, thank you. Are you…trying to cheer me up, Mick? Trying to make me laugh?"

Mick pressed his hands into the bed, his muscles tensing. Then his posture relaxed and his soulful eyes finally met her own intrigued gaze. "Maybe."

"It's working," Amaya smiled. "Anyway, something that Nate told me prompted me to do some research on my future, and I found out…more than I should have. Probably much more than anyone ever should. Now I don't know how this knowledge will effect me, influence my every decision, possibly cause problems."

"Do you wish you hadn't opened the Panera's box?" Mick asked.

"You mean a Pandora's box?" Amaya wondered, cocking her head to one side analytically. "I think I made a mistake." She took a thoughtful beat and asked, "Mick, I've noticed you doing that a lot recently."

"What?"

"Mixing up words. Words that you obviously know the meaning of. And you seem very distracted, too. Almost all the time." Amaya started to add up all the little clues and signs that had confused her in passing over the last few weeks.

Mick paused, as if he were considering whether to make up an excuse, rely on bravado, do anything but confess his truth. Then he took a deep breath and admitted, "Yeah, I know. I know about both of those things. It's weird. I can't seem to _focus_ lately." The mere thought of the difficult state he was in seemed to bring back his exhaustion, and Mick pressed his hands into his eyes.

Amaya couldn't help herself; she moved to sit beside him on the bed and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. "It's alright, Mick. You've been through a lot. Losing your partner was devastating. And I still don't quite understand the extent of what you went through with the Time Masters from the bits and pieces you've let slip."

Mick stared at her hand for a moment and half-smiled, his expression the most gentle one she'd seen on him.

"I told the Professor all about that recently," he explained, sounding irritated by the memory. "About how the Time Masters invaded my mind," he pointed to his head and flinched, the thought of the procedure clearly traumatizing. She tightened her grip on his shoulder reassuringly. "How they brainwashed me and forced them to do their bidding."

"Oh my God," Amaya breathed, "You mean they did to you what our team had to do to Rip to get him back from the Legion's control?"

"Only the Time Masters weren't so nice about it," Mick clarified grimly. "Sometimes when I'm trying to fall asleep at night, I can still feel them wandering around in my head, rearranging things, pulling me apart. They left their claws behind in my mind."

"And what did Professor Stein think about your ordeal's impact on your psychological state?" Amaya questioned, assuming that the connection between Mick's mixture of extreme traumas spoke for itself.

"He didn't seem to find it all that interesting," he replied casually, as though this was only to be expected. "Although at least it gave him a good idea about how to save Rip. _My_ idea," he added darkly, pridefully.

"What?" Amaya stood and crossed her arms. "He didn't think this warranted further study?"

Mick looked up at her, bewildered. "Why would he bother? The team thinks I'm just a dumb thug, Amaya. Everyone except you. I'm only here because every once in a while, I'm convenient."

Amaya felt very sad all of a sudden. "Mick, you can't really think that. Perhaps Professor Stein has been busy with other things lately and treated you insensitively. But we all care about you. We value you. You're our teammate and we need you."

Mick stood and softly traced the lines of her face with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, taking in the sensation of his touch. Amaya's heart skipped a beat and her eyes, reopening, registered surprise and…something more.

" _You_ care about me, Amaya," Mick said gruffly. " _You've_ been a friend to me. Don't confuse your own feelings with those of the rest of the crew."

Amaya took Mick's hand in hers firmly. "Come on," she said abruptly, "We're going to get to the bottom of this right now, and get you some help."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: If we go down then we go down together**

"Excuse me, everyone," Amaya called, walking onto the bridge with Mick close behind her. "We need to have a discussion."

"We do?" Mick asked foggily, a bit disoriented again.

"Sure," Sara replied nonchalantly, easily accepting of the suggestion.

Ray, Nate, Stein, Jax, and Rip gathered around as Amaya explained, "I've just been talking to Mick—"

" _Not_ about feelings," Mick clarified defensively. Amaya's mouth turned up in a wry half-smile.

"Of course not," she agreed. "We were talking about his speech patterns recently, how he's been confusing words that he normally never would. And I'm sure we've _all_ noticed," Amaya added, slight anger coloring her tone as her eyes landed on Stein, "that Mick has been somewhat confused and increasingly unpredictable lately."

"That's true," Sara remarked attentively.

"I think there's a connection, not only with Leonard Snart's death, but also with the abuse done to Mick's mind by the Time Masters. Perhaps these factors are culminating, and if the symptoms continue to escalate, we could come to a crisis." Amaya crossed her arms and waited to hear the others' views.

" _I_ could come to a crisis," Mick put in quickly. "It's not like I rely on any of you for help. Anyway, it sounds like fun. But thanks for the chat, everyone. I'm hungry." He tried to walk off, but Amaya halted him with a touch to his arm.

"Hold it right there," she cautioned him. "We're discussing this as a crew."

"I wasn't thinking too far ahead when I let you drag me up here. This is a bad idea," Mick argued.

"Not many of us ended up on this team by being receptive to help from others, or having much of a _history_ of working as a team," Sara said. "I know it's hard to seek out or take help, but when you need it, well, that's why we _are_ a team, Mick."

"Are we, Blondie?" Mick crossed his arms. "Lately, I'm not so sure. And I notice the _rest_ of you are pretty damn quiet." He sent a liberal glare around to the remaining team members who hadn't spoken up yet.

"I'm beginning to fear I haven't paid sufficient attention to your mounting issues, Mr. Rory," Martin admitted, shaking his head in slight self-reproach. "I admit that I attributed some of your more outlandish behavior to your past as a criminal, and what I perceived as a markedly limited intellect."

"Thanks a lot," Mick quipped. "How about I show you some of that brute strength of mine, since that's apparently all you think I'm good for?" He brandished a fist threateningly.

"Hey," Jax piped up, "in Grey's defense, we have been dealing with a lot lately, what with the Legion of Doom trying to get the Spear of Destiny and _rewrite the universe_ , so maybe a little extra craziness than usual from Mick didn't make us slow down any."

"I'll show you some extra craziness," Mick growled, his eyes flashing.

"Mick, cut it out," Ray broke out, concerned. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything."

"You just described the opposite of my life story, Haircut," Mick retorted drily.

"Dr. Palmer is correct," Rip contributed. "This is, however inconvenient to you, Mr. Rory, not a problem to be solved with violence. Dr. Stein, I'm the last one to judge another for being too short-sighted or caught up in their own affairs to notice the pain or struggle of another. And we've all been too inattentive to this matter. Moving on, if our Captain feels this is a worthwhile suggestion," his eyes flitted over to Sara and they both smiled at the acknowledgement of the recent change in command and his acceptance of it, "Perhaps we could endeavor to discover the exact extent of the Time Master's damage to Mr. Rory's mind."

"And find a solution that may bring him back to his normal, only _slightly_ unbalanced state of mind," Martin added with a note of the sort of humor that was an integral characteristic of the Legends' comradery. "Yes, I believe that should be possible."

"Wait a minute," Mick warned slowly. "If you mean what I think you do…"

"Are you talking about going into Mick's mind, using the Time Masters' technology?" Amaya asked softly.

"Forget it," Mick said sharply. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you bozos loose in my brain."

"Is this the best solution available to us?" Sara asked Stein. "Let's not forget guys, healing Mick isn't just the right thing to do, but it's also essential to any battles that are coming our way. A ticking time bomb is the last thing this team needs right now."

"We _should_ have been more focused on this sooner," Jax murmured thoughtfully.

"Sure sounds like it," Nate noted. He'd been looking back and forth between Amaya and Mick throughout the conversation, very contemplative. Amaya wondered what he was thinking and knew there was a talk she needed to have with him soon. So much had been left unresolved by their last encounter.

"Mick, wouldn't you rather take the chance to get better, even if it's uncomfortable for you at first?" Ray asked sensitively.

" _Uncomfortable_?" Mick snorted. "You don't know the half of it, Haircut."

"But I do," Rip reflected. "I know the torment of having one's inner self tampered with by outside, malevolent forces. I also know that this is the only way to bring you back to your usual less than charming, but ever indispensable self, Mr. Rory."

"Gotta admit," Mick remarked, staring at the floor, "I didn't think many of you considered me important. I know you don't trust me."

"Some of us aren't by nature the most trusting," Sara pointed out. "But if you think about it, Mick, you'll realize I've _tried_ to trust you."

"Maybe," he grumbled, thrusting his hands in his pockets. His head jerked up abruptly and he said, "Alright, fine. I'll do it. On one condition."

"Yes?" Martin asked.

"Amaya goes in," Mick nodded at Amaya, who was taken aback. "Only Amaya. She's the only one _I_ trust."

Amaya felt taken out of body for just a moment, and then a tingling sensation swept her from head to toe. Her skin felt hot and her heart took on a relentlessly hard and fast tempo. What _was_ this feeling?

"Mick, I don't know if I'll be able to find the right solutions, without any help," she explained, worried.

"Sure you will," Mick encouraged her with a half-smile of his own. "You always do."

Nate cleared his throat. "So, I guess you guys had better get started, then."

"You've got the go ahead," Sara announced, shrugging with her usual understanding that wild and dangerous gambits were a Legend's way of life. And that sometimes, it took a leap of faith to become whole again.

"Shall we, Mr. Rory, Ms. Jiwe?" Martin asked, his hand sweeping out to indicate the path to the medlab.

Mick looked searchingly at Amaya, clearly wondering if she would truly be willing to undertake this task. As they looked at each other, she felt oddly as though they were the only ones in the room for a moment.

"Yes, we shall," Amaya agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: You are fire**

Once all of the equipment was set up and everyone was ready to begin the procedure, Stein hesitated before saying, "Mr. Rory, I do apologize if I've been neglectful or dismissive towards you. I hope I can make up for that short-sightedness now."

"It's cool, Professor," Mick replied, "Mainly because I really liked that song you sang at NASA." He laughed as the memory of that ridiculous incident inspired instantaneous mirth.

"A half hour ago, you were ready to assault me," Martin pointed out, miffed.

"Maybe I'm in a grateful mood, or maybe I think I might not come out of this experiment alive," Mick clarified. "But if you'd prefer that I punch you, that can be arranged."

"That's perfectly alright, Mr. Rory," Stein said, stepping back slightly. "Now, if you and Ms. Jiwe would please just relax and close your eyes…."

Amaya was about to comply with the request when she caught Mick's glance and he took her hand for a moment.

"Thank you," he said whole-heartedly, and she squeezed his fingers, then shut her eyes and tried to prepare herself for this experience. But there was nothing she could do to prepare for such a staggering endeavor.

Amaya knew deep down that fighting for something good and right, for someone she cared about, was exactly what she needed right now. She was just glad that her own craving for redemption had crashed into Mick's.

When her eyes opened up again, Amaya was in the pitch darkness. She sat on a hard, cold floor and began by feeling around for anything that might offer a next move, some clue as to how she should proceed. Finally, her fingers clutched something small and thin on the ground. A match.

Amaya struck the match against her boot sole and wielded the tiny flame cautiously, using it to study the environs. There was nothing as far as the eye could see except for Leonard Snart, who stood smirking at her with his arms crossed, decked out in full Captain Cold gear.

"Snart," Amaya murmured, standing to face him.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Snart drawled in lieu of asking Amaya's name. Then she remembered that he didn't need to because he was a manifestation of Mick's subconscious. Damn, this was surreal. "But that's alright, since I really don't care. He doesn't want you here."

Amaya smiled confidently, stepping closer to Snart as she retorted, "Yes, he does. He invited me. _You_ don't want me here because you're the one who's not real, who's been designed to keep Mick paranoid and caged. That ends today."

Snart lifted his cold gun and aimed it right at Amaya's heart. "Let's test that theory," he quipped, firing with no hesitation. But Amaya just held her ground, and as the ice ray was about to hit her chest, she dropped the lit match onto the blast.

Instantly, fire exploded everywhere around them. The blast from the cold ray evaporated uselessly and a ring of flames illuminated a scene that had expanded. Instead of dark nothingness and cold, there was a hallway and there were doors. Amaya grinned. Now she was getting somewhere.

"This isn't over," Snart warned her before he turned and ran in the opposite direction of the hallway, where the nothing still extended out into unfathomable bleakness.

Amaya lifted a torch that had appeared beside her and dipped it into the flames, proceeding into the shadowy hall. She tried the first door, but it was locked. She'd have to come back to it later. The next door opened to reveal a couple, clutching each other in fear, huddled on the floor. Before them, a young boy stood holding another match, and it was lit.

"You have to stop him," the woman pleaded with Amaya. "We can't trust him."

But tears ran down the boy's face as he remained standing in that one spot, as though he was afraid to move. "I don't want to hurt you," the boy sobbed, trembling.

Amaya put her hand on the boy's shoulder and told Mick's parents, "It was an accident."

Mick's father shook his head and corrected her emphatically: "No it wasn't. He wanted to cause chaos and destruction. It's what he craves. It's what he _enjoys_."

The child version of Mick began to cry even harder, so Amaya blew out the match and tossed it aside, pulling him into a hug. "Don't listen to them, Mick," she whispered fiercely. "These are just the words you tell yourself out of grief and self-blame. But you were an innocent child, and what happened to your family was an accident."

"We'll never forgive him," Mick's mother declared, her voice shifting from desperate to cold.

Amaya paused to consider the statement, aware that this woman's claim was born of Mick's own refusal to forgive himself for the fire all those years ago.

"Maybe you can't forgive yourself today," Amaya told the boy, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. He wiped tears away pridefully and gulped. "But you have to start walking the path to finding that forgiveness, that ability to accept that a young boy made a mistake. If you can get your feet onto that path today, that's more than enough. You don't have to stay here, Mick. Not forever. No one deserves that, and your parents wouldn't have wanted it."

"What should I do?" the young Mick asked Amaya, the dim flicker of hope somewhere deep in his eyes.

"I don't know," Amaya admitted. "Let's try this." She took him by the hand and led him from the room and into the hall. "I don't exactly know how this works, but I do know that you have to get away from _them_ , those voices and thoughts, to get where you need to be. So Mick, why don't you try walking away? See where that leads you."

The boy sniffled and nodded, still drawing on pride to overcome his terror. He took one step away from the room, then another, until he was walking briskly away from her, so far down the long hallway that he'd disappeared from her view.

Amaya took a deep, shaky breath and wiped tears from her own eyes, overcome with sympathy and compassion for the boy. For Mick.

"That's one point for you," Snart's callous voice piped up. Amaya started and saw him standing across the hall from her, leaning against the next door. "Don't think you'll earn another on my watch."

"You don't scare me," Amaya scowled. "I know what you are. You are how the Time Masters manipulated Mick into thinking he'd made a mistake by joining the Legends, and they built upon that deception over and over and deeper and deeper, until he disappeared from himself."

"Ah, Chronos," Snart smiled smugly. "One of our finest creations. I do miss him. I think he might be due for a comeback."

"Never" Amaya replied smoothly, not letting him see how his words sent a terrified chill down her spine. "I take it this is the next room I should try," she noted, since Snart was blocking it off.

"Do we really need to do this again?" Snart asked, flipping his gun upward casually and threateningly.

"No, we don't," Amaya assured him, punching him as hard as she could in the face. He blinked and fell over onto the floor. She stepped neatly over him and walked into the room, where versions of the Legends team were seated around King Arthur's round table, though they wore their everyday clothing.

"He's just a common criminal," Martin Stein announced, "And an especially stupid one at that."

"Come on guys," Ray put in glibly, "He's not so bad. At least he makes us laugh."

"He's a liability," Sara contributed, looking conflicted. "I want to trust Mick, but I know I never really can."

"You're right," Rip agreed. "We need to eliminate Mr. Rory as soon as possible."

"I'll hold him down," Nate volunteered nonchalantly.

"Perfect," Jax declared with a cruel smirk, "Grey and I can do the rest."

"Wait a minute," Amaya interrupted, furious, "Are you talking about _killing_ Mick?"

They looked at each other slowly, confusedly, and then back at Amaya. "Of course," Sara acknowledged, "It's not what I wanted, but what else can we do? If we let him live, he will betray us. It's in his nature. It's what Mick is."

"No," Amaya argued. "Mick may have started out as a criminal, but he became a Legend. He can be a hero, he can fight for what's right; he has and he _will_. Not least of all because no matter how he tries to hide it, he cares about this team, and the _real_ Legends are his friends. Maybe he doesn't know how to feel about that because he's never had friends like this before. I know it must have been hard for Snart too, to accept being part of something bigger than himself, and among those he could truly trust. That's why the Time Masters used Mick's partner to manifest those self-doubts within himself until they became monsters, and eventually it morphed into all of you. They took advantage of a vulnerability, a kernel of truth, personified it with Snart, and when the real Snart died, the whole thing spiraled out of control."

Amaya had started out with a simple rebuttal that had turned into thinking aloud and reasoning out the problem in full. She had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself.

"Who cares?" Jax laughed harshly. "We don't need to psychoanalyze this loser to know he's got to go."

"I hate to say it, but he's right," Ray said sheepishly. "I mean, we are just _so_ much better off without Mick."

"Mr. Rory may have a certain very specified skill set," Rip contributed, "but he lacks the intelligence and the moral fiber to do anything truly worthwhile with it."

"I don't have to listen to this _drivel_ for another second," Amaya said angrily. She looked up, where instead of a ceiling, there was just more black nothingness, an upward abyss. "Mick! I'm talking to you. The real you. None of what they're saying is true, and the real team could never feel this way about you. Sure, like everyone, we mess up and we say the wrong thing at the wrong time, and combined with what the Time Masters did, and all that grief you've endured, it can be enough to make you paranoid. But never forget that you're an integral part of this team and we are your friends."

Looking back to the group in the room, Amaya added, "Mick is _smart_ , much too smart to be bogged down with these kinds of thoughts," she continued. Then someone else stepped into the room and stood beside her. "Oh, hello," Amaya said.

Another Amaya had appeared beside her, decked out in a beautiful gold dress, looking like a fairytale princess, golden glitter spread out delicately around her eyes and cheeks. Her hair was loose and her expression filled with a gentle kindness that was somehow also almost intimidatingly strong.

"Hello," the other Amaya replied. Then she lifted Mick's heat gun and used it to destroy the whole room, along with the fake, murderous group of Legends. "There," the golden-garbed Amaya proclaimed. "That's an improvement."

"Agreed," Amaya said. "Listen, the _real_ Sara, Rip, Ray, Martin, Jax and Nate are out there, and they're worried about Mick. They need him back. _I_ need him back," she admitted, the last bit coming out softer.

"Then come with me," the manifestation of Amaya suggested, leading the real Amaya back to the first door she'd initially found locked in the hall. "Well, would you look at that," she smiled, nodding down at the real Amaya's hand, where a key now nestled.

"Thanks," Amaya told herself with a grin, but the other Amaya shook her head and shrugged. "Don't thank me, thank Mick." She pointed to the room and then disappeared.

Amaya walked into the dim room, which was lit by more torches that were attached to the walls. It was empty save for one man standing in the center, clad in futuristic armor.

"I see," Amaya observed thoughtfully. This bore the appearance of the Chronos of whom she'd heard so much, but she had a theory about what lay beneath that armor and why he felt the need to wear it.

She took a step towards the motionless figure, but Snart reappeared to prevent her.

"I knew you were going to be a problem right from the get-go," he sneered, blocking her path.

"Get out of my way," Amaya said, shaking her head impatiently.

"You don't have to listen to her, Mick," Snart called to the armored man, "We've _talked_ about this. You don't have to let her make you _weak_."

"Let me just take care of this for you," he continued in a hiss, reaching around Amaya's neck and tightening his grip. Amaya froze, deciding to bank on this being a moment of opportunity.

And as she'd expected, right then, when her life was threatened in earnest, the armored man began to move.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Show me and I'm all yours**

Snart was on the ground before he knew what hit him thanks to a brutal blow from the man in Chronos' uniform. As Leonard's grip on her throat was released, Amaya gasped for air and felt grateful she'd been correct in thinking that letting him seem to get the best of her would force Mick into action.

As for Mick, for that was the real him under the armor, she knew, he stood there staring at her as she moved close to him and started to remove his helmet. Once that was out of their way, he blinked in surprise. A realization struck him before he could return to his dazed state.

"You're real," Mick murmured, eyes huge with the seeming-impossibility of it all, "You're _you_."

"Yes," Amaya smiled, "You sent me in here, Mick, don't you remember? I came here to help you."

He blinked a few more times and said, "Yeah…I _do_ remember that. And he…" Mick nodded down at Snart, at a loss for words.

"He's not your real partner," Amaya reminded him intensely. "Don't ever let him fool you again. He's just a remnant of the Time Masters' manipulation. The real Leonard Snart, even before he joined the Legends, would never try to keep you down with cruel lies about your supposed inferiority. You've got to try and shake him off for good."

"I don't know how," Mick admitted.

"It might help if you could come to terms with the real Snart's death," Amaya suggested gently. "The tighter you hold onto your grief, refusing to process and experience it, the easier it is for this facet of your subconscious to keep tricking you."

"That's not going to be easy," he remarked, "But I can try. But hey," he touched her arm lightly with a gloved hand. "Since when are you such an expert psychoanalyst?"

"I'm far from it," Amaya replied, "I just _know_ you, Mick, more and more every day, and certainly more than ever after being in here. And I know grief, too, know its ability to make living every day a painful drudgery. Plus, I know regret and its little voices all too well."

"I don't want to wear this anymore," Mick decided in response to her words, her presence, her everything. He immediately stood before her in normal clothing, doing a double-take at the demonstration of his own power to effect change. "Whoa," he breathed, looking at his jeans and t-shirt.

"See?" Amaya grinned. "If you don't want to do something, don't do it, Mick. Now come back with me. It's time for you to wake up."

Snart shifted slightly on the floor, groaning and sure to make one more attempt to stop Mick from escaping the tyrannical conniving at which this false version of Leonard so excelled. But Mick didn't hesitate to lift his flame gun and point it at the illusion of his best friend.

"You wouldn't kill your old buddy, now would ya, Mick?" Snart groveled with transparently insincere affection. "After all, I'm the only friend you've got."

"No," Mick replied, "I wouldn't kill my buddy Snart." As the fake Leonard relaxed, Mick chortled, the sound hollow. "That's why it's a good thing you're not him," he added before unleashing waves of flames upon Snart until he was nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor.

Mick stared down at the smoldering heap of ash and said quietly, "And you are _not_ the only friend I have."

Proud of him, Amaya took Mick by the hand, saying, "Are you ready to go?"

Mick returned her smile, dropping his gun to the floor. The false Snart and any remnant of his existence in Mick's mind completely vanished.

"Yeah," Mick agreed, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

When they woke up, Amaya felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, the result of her gut reaction to his typically gruff last words and her feeling of great triumph in what they'd achieved.

Mick squinted over at her, exhausted. "I feel like I need to sleep for a year."

"That's completely normal, Mr. Rory," Stein assured him, removing the medical gear and helping Mick to sit up. "You've been through quite an ordeal. Believe me, we've been monitoring your vitals, and we know."

"We?" Mick asked, perplexed. Then he looked around and saw that all the Legends were gathered around his cot, looking concerned and relieved.

"Glad you're okay, man," Nate smiled warmly.

"I knew it!" Ray proclaimed excitedly. "Once again, that's Time Masters: zero, Legends: I don't know, how many times have we beat them now? Anyway, a lot."

"My former cohorts' residual machinations were clearly no longterm threat against a mind as strong as yours, Mr. Rory," Rip added with a smile.

"Grey, you owe me ten bucks," Jax nodded to his partner. "I told you Mick and Amaya would solve this in a matter of hours and you said it would take at least a few _days_."

"I stand corrected, Jefferson," Martin admitted ruefully, passing a rolled up bill to Jax, who grinned and displayed it to the others with glee. "It seems that Ms. Jiwe and Mr. Rory make quite a formidable team."

Amaya blushed and looked up to meet Sara's eyes. An obvious understanding of at least a hint of what Amaya felt for Mick shone back at her, and Amaya had to look away in shy inability to deal with her own emotions, never mind a friend's acknowledgement of them.

"Glad you two will be ready to get back in action soon," Sara declared, mercifully changing the subject with a nod to Amaya. "While you two were sleeping, most of the rest of us took a little trip to the Vanishing Point to get the last piece of the Spear. And now we just got a line on how to _destroy_ the spear before Thawne, Merlyn and Darhk can get their grubby hands on it."

"Are you seriously going to keep saying all three names every time just to avoid saying 'Legion of Doom'?" Nate asked drily.

"Uh, yup," Sara retorted, "Yes, I am. Mick, Amaya, rest up and then be ready to move out. We're headed for World War I France."

A couple of days later, it almost was time to embark on the mission. Mick and Amaya hadn't had a chance to talk alone since her journey into his subconscious, but she knew that maybe the real reason was more complicated. On her own part, she'd made up excuses to avoid chances to be alone with him. She craved such a moment, to dive back into their connection, but there were so many reasons why their bond felt like a painful impossibility.

After meeting to discuss their plan to go into a World War I battle and retrieve some of Christ's blood to destroy the spear, Mick stood sullenly staring at the completed spear as it lay displayed on a console.

Amaya couldn't resist making sure he was alright and approached him gently.

"Do you hear them, too?" Mick asked without looking up at her, sensing her presence.

"Hear what?" Amaya said just as the sound of strange whispers, small yet insistent, began to swirl through her mind.

"The voices," Mick explained, yanking his gaze from the spear with what looked like a great deal of effort. "That's the spear, trying to tell us to use it to rewrite history and fix all the fucked up disasters of our lives, the things that tore us apart. What are they saying to you?"

"They're talking about Rex, saying I could save him," she murmured sadly. The ache that resonated from the Spear's almost taunting temptations pierced her emotions. "And they're telling me that I could prevent my village from being destroyed in the future, save my granddaughter from being orphaned."

Mick nodded and she felt compelled to ask him, "What are the voices saying to you?"

"I hear my parents' voices," Mick said, his voice tight with conflicted grief and longing.

"What are they saying?" Amaya asked softly.

"Don't play with fire, Mick," he replied simply, and so sadly that it hurt her just as much as the spear's temptation of her.

"Hey," Amaya said, moving closer to him and placing a hand on his back. He leaned slightly into her touch as if by instinct. "I think you should get away from the spear for now. We both should."

"Have you been trying to stay away from _me_ lately?" Mick asked hoarsely, averting his eyes. "Seems like whatever you saw in my head weirded you out pretty badly. Every time I've tried to talk to you since we got back, you've had something else to do."

"Mick," Amaya breathed, not knowing how to reassure him of her friendship without revealing that something more that lay beneath it, threatening to expose her deeper inclinations towards him.

"It's alright, Amaya," he said in brusque dismissal of her attempted explanation, "I get it."

He walked off, but she followed him down the hall. "In case that wasn't clear enough, I don't want your sympathy," Mick told Amaya when she tried to stop him.

" _Sympathy_?" Amaya's face relaxed into a smile at the absurdity of this assumption, understandable though it was from his perspective, not knowing how she felt. "Come on," she said, reaching for his hand. He hesitated only a beat before taking it, and again the irresistible sensation of coming home was all too immediate as his warm fingers intertwined with hers.

She led him to her quarters, and once they were inside, she sat down on her bed, gesturing for him to sit as well.

Mick looked around as if he were on an alien planet all of a sudden. "It's so neat in here, so… _organized_ ," he remarked, scanning the room.

Amaya shrugged. "It's kind of my thing," she explained, "But I haven't been feeling all that neat and organized about life lately."

Mick sat down beside her and asked, "Because you broke up with Heywood?"

"That was inevitable," Amaya clarified. "We're so much better off as friends. I don't know what I was thinking getting involved with him, except…" The natural drift of her thoughts had carried her beyond what she'd wanted to reveal to Mick and she halted.

"You can tell me anything," Mick encouraged her, "I won't judge you, not after what you've seen in _here_." He winked and pointed to his head, eliciting a smile from her.

"Except," she continued boldly, not knowing why she couldn't help being honest with him, "that even before I knew that a romance in this time was impossible for me, I was afraid to have those feelings for anyone again. I wanted to protect myself even from the chance that I could get that close to someone and feel that powerful need to be with them, knowing that if I lost them…I might not be able to take it. So when I started wanting to get closer to…well, to _you_ …"

Mick's expression shifted from intent and supportive to shocked in an instant, and she saw a reciprocal desire in his eyes that undid her.

"I was afraid to give into that feeling," Amaya admitted. "So I shoved it down and tried to just…have fun with Nate. It didn't make the way I really felt go away, though. And then I found out about the reasons why I have to go back to my own time once we defeat the Legion and carry out my destiny. It's as though I'm just a _cog_ in the machine of history. So I'm right back where I started, Mick. I can't have what I want, even now that it doesn't frighten me anymore."

"What is it that you want?" Mick said quietly, his gaze far too intimate for her to bear. That surreal sensation of attraction came sweeping back to her, taking her by storm as fire seemed to rush through her veins, her skin tingly and sensitive, dying to be touched by him. She realized that she'd always known how much she yearned for him, even in the deepest depths of her attempted denial of it. But this wasn't the kind of attraction that ran skin deep, and Amaya knew that the only way to describe the dizzying, entrancing emotion was to call it falling in love.

"Mick, there's no point," Amaya whispered sadly, "We can never be together."

"I don't know that," Mick refuted, "I know that we live a crazy life in a crazy universe, hurtling through time on a spaceship." Amaya laughed and nodded in agreement. As usual, he cut right through her tension and relieved it so easily. "So maybe trying to get everything to make sense is a waste of time," he suggested. "And maybe life is too short."

She mulled over his words and then he added, "There is only _one_ thing that's made any sense to me lately, and that's you. It's how I feel about you. So even if we can't ever be together, just in case we get wiped out of existence by the Legion or blasted out of space by the next enemy, I'll be glad I told you."

The problem was that they were sitting much too close to each other, Amaya realized. It had probably been a foolish idea to bring him here and literally sit down on her bed if she wanted to keep her hands off of him.

Sure enough, her fingers inched their way over and landed on top of his hand as she shifted nearer, their thighs touching. "I'm glad you told me, too," Amaya admitted just as he lowered his mouth to hers and she readily returned his kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Reunion**

Amaya closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against Mick's firm chest as his strong arms encircled her, bringing her body into his lap. The taste of his lips and the feeling of his hands tangling in her hair, then slowly exploring her figure, were intoxicating. A burst of desire and coming fully alive that she'd tried to repress for so long coursed through her, free and increasingly demanding. It was just so treacherously easy, so dangerously _right_ , opening her mouth to explore his further, letting her own fingers stroke his head, his back, reach the bottom of his t-shirt and begin to lift it as he groaned softly. The passion he was giving back to her with such clear indication that he'd longed for this just as much as Amaya served to make their surrender overpoweringly delicious.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Gideon chirped cheerfully, "But Ms. Lance has asked that everyone prepare for departure at this time."

Mick and Amaya broke apart, breathing hard, and stared at each other for a moment before they both laughed. "Gideon, you moment-destroyer," Mick growled, his hands resting on Amaya's hips.

"Can we pick this back up when we return?" Amaya asked, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.

"I would have it no other way," he murmured in that delectably gritty way of his that made it almost physically impossible for her to leave his embrace. This man was trouble, and she liked it far too much.

Everyone had to get dressed in period-appropriate clothing, and Amaya frowned at her frumpy nurse's uniform that wasn't exactly battle-friendly. No matter: if she needed to fight at any time, she would do so and do it well, regardless of what she wore. Arriving on the bridge, Amaya grinned as she saw Sara examining the nurse's apron of her own uniform with a scowl.

Mick stepped onto the bridge along with Stein, Jax, Ray and Nate, in soldier's uniforms. "Mick, are you feeling up to this?" Sara asked. He nodded.

"Let's go destroy the spear and tell the Legion of Doom where they can go," Mick said determinedly.

But of course, it was far from an easy road to reach those goals. Thawne was onto the Legends. He'd sent Damien Darhk to wait for their arrival on the battlefields and prevent their retrieval of the all-important blood, and Darhk wasn't alone. Targeting Mick as the member of the team that seemed the most alienated and vulnerable, Thawne had banked on being able to convince him to switch sides.

"I saw Snart," Mick informed the other Legends when they returned to the Wave Rider for a brief respite from the ongoing fray and to reassess the situation.

"Mr. Rory, this is not the first time you've hallucinated your partner's presence," Stein began sympathetically, but Mick shook his head.

"This is no hallucination. Thawne went and got the _real_ Snart, before he joined the Legends, back when his morality was more…nonexistent," Mick explained. "I think the plan is to use Snart to tempt me to betray you all and give the Legion the spear."

"Maybe we can use that to our advantage," Sara suggested thoughtfully.

"Perhaps if Mr. Rory pretends to be amenable to Mr. Snart's invitation…" Rip put in, pacing in contemplation.

"…then we can trick him and Darhk into showing up in one place," Jax said excitedly. "Then we can just grab them."

"We'd still have Thawne and Merlyn to contend with, and somewhere in the middle of all this we've still got to get that blood," Amaya observed, "but this would be a major victory for us."

Everyone looked at Mick, wondering if he would step up to the challenge.

"Okay," he said finally, "This is gonna be weird, and when we get Snart back to the ship, you let me decide how to deal with him."

"So you'll do it?" Sara asked, slightly surprised by the ease of his agreement. "If you do, we'll give you a say in what happens to Snart."

Mick's expression darkened as he said, "Thawne thinks he can take my _best friend_ out of the past and use him as a pawn to play on my emotions and the fact that he clearly thinks I'm a moron. Yeah, I'll do it. I'll do my bit to stop that son of a bitch before he does any more harm. And to save Snart from being collateral damage in this whole mess."

"Mr. Rory, there was a time when you would not have hesitated to leap to the side of the Legion and take advantage of our trust so that you could have whatever profit you wanted," Stein noted. "I must say, I'm impressed with your progress."

"Impressed or _suspicious_ , Professor?" Mick drawled, and Sara shook her head with a smile.

"Just impressed, Mick," Sara clarified, clapping him on the back.

"And grateful," Ray added. "I know this can't be easy for you."

"That's where you're wrong, Haircut," Mick replied simply, "I'm looking forward to this."

Catching his eye, her own gaze shimmering with pride, Amaya smiled at Mick and he winked at her. Yes, she thought, they were _definitely_ going to have a talk about that uniform of his later.

Back in the fields of war, Nate was able to find the precious vial of blood, but a random bullet from a nearby soldier shattered the glass and their opportunity to eliminate the spear using this particular method. It was back to the drawing board, but not before carrying out the rest of their plan.

"I don't have _friends,_ " Mick told Sara as Amaya stood nearby. The spear was clutched in his hand, and the eyes of both Snart and Dahrk were locked on the all-important tool.

"But he does have partners," Leonard added snidely. Mick went and stood beside Snart.

"Mick, don't do this," Sara pleaded, while Amaya gasped and cried, "You bastard!"

"Come with me," Mick encouraged her, their eyes meeting as deeper meanings were exchanged silently between them. "We'll fix our messed up pasts together."

" _Never,_ " Amaya replied, adding some extra vitriol just to really sell her rage to their unwitting enemies.

Then Mick wrested Snart's cold gun from his grip. It came away easily since Snart had no suspicion of Mick's true motives. Before either villain could process what had just happened, Mick shot Darhk with just enough power to send him slamming to the ground unconscious, particularly enjoying the way Damien blinked in utter and complete confusion before the blast hit his chest.

"What are you _doing_?" Snart demanded, shocked and enraged, turning on Mick.

"Sorry, old friend," Mick smirked, punching Leonard in the face and catching him before he fell over. The Wave Rider descended to pick them all up soon after.

Jax indulged in a slow clap as Damien Darhk and Captain Cold were carried aboard.

"A job well done, Mr. Rory," Rip congratulated him happily.

"We didn't get the blood, though," Nate remarked.

"There's got to be some other way to take the spear out of play," Ray reasoned. "We're Legends, we _always_ find a solution, even when it seems like one doesn't exist."

"You're damn right," Nate smiled, cheering slightly.

Sara stalked up to the unconscious Darhk, who was being dragged along by Nate, and looked at her ultimate nemesis with a cold, satisfied smile. "Enjoy rotting away in a cell while we decide the best way to use you to get what we need," she murmured, hatred dripping from every word.

"What about Snart?" Mick asked, setting the inert, handcuffed Leonard down in a chair. "You promised me that I could have a say in his treatment."

"What do you propose?" Sara asked, crossing her arms as Damien was conveyed by Nate and Ray to his cell.

"Why don't we put him in the med bay, rather than a cell," Amaya suggested, walking up to stand by Mick, who had paused in trying to decide how to use the trust extended to him by the team in this matter. He wasn't used to believing in that trust, and it was clearly overwhelming.

"Fine with me, as long as he's cuffed," Sara agreed, then nodded to Mick. "Hey, remember, he was our teammate too. And maybe this version of Snart can't understand how it could ever be, but he _did_ save us all and sacrificed himself. We won't forget that, no matter how we ultimately decide to deal with him."

"What do you mean, deal with him?" Mick asked.

"I mean…he was taken from his timeline," Sara explained, "And we probably have to return him there. Otherwise, by meddling with his destiny, we'd be creating an aberration and simultaneously endangering all of our lives."

"Because he died saving us," Mick sighed, understanding striking him. Amaya frowned. She hadn't thought quite this far ahead either. It seemed as if every shot at redemption they found led them slamming headfirst into a potential aberration. _Dammit._ She wished there was a way for Mick to have his friend back, knew that this seemed like such a golden opportunity for that to happen, once Snart could be redeemed as he was the first time around.

"If I may," Gideon's crisp voice piped up, "I believe there is a loophole that would allow Mr. Snart to remain with the team."

"What's the loophole?" Rip asked, intrigued.

"Mr. Snart died at the Vanishing Point," Gideon elaborated, "A place which is located _outside_ of regular time and space. Therefore, according to my calculations, if this version of Mr. Snart should continue living in the present time, it should not negate your survivals. Everything should, in short, be okay."

"Gideon, you're beautiful!" Mick breathed in relieved joy. Amaya clutched his arm, thrilled.

"Yes, I believe Mr. Hunter can attest to that," Gideon remarked blithely.

"Well, he wasn't the only one who saw you in human form," Sara pointed out as Rip turned bright red.

"Yes, Ms. Lance, but he was the only one I—"

"Shall we bring Mr. Snart to the med lab before he wakes up?" Rip interrupted abruptly, clearing his throat as Sara shot him a confused and curious look.

"Too late!" Leonard snapped, leaping up from his seat just in time for Mick to sock him squarely in the jaw. He fell to one side as Mick and Amaya each took one of his arms.

"Let's get him somewhere safe before he starts anymore trouble," Amaya grinned, helping Mick carry his friend.

"This has been one crazy day," Jax reflected, amazed, as they entered the med lab.

"Indeed, Jefferson," Stein confirmed, "And there is still a great deal more for us to deal with. Even aside from deciding our next move regarding the potential destruction of the spear and how to make sure Thawne and Merlyn's plans fail, we must determine the best way to properly rehabilitate Mr. Snart."

Getting Snart settled on a cot and clicking his handcuffs into place on the rails, Mick nodded, looking at his friend analytically.

"I can't believe this," Amaya remarked, still buzzing with the excitement of their dual victory, despite the loss of the blood that might have completed their all-around success.

Mick looked over at her with a contented smile. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look _contented_ before.

"I'm starting to believe anything's possible," Mick replied, and Amaya wondered if she was starting to agree. She wondered if she dared to think such a thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: I don't think that I'd mind the falling**

The team decided to keep Leonard under house arrest for now, with someone escorting him whenever he needed to leave the confines of his quarters. The hope was that the positive influence of the team would eventually get through to Snart and help him begin finding redemption and a better purpose, as he once had. It would be a long road.

As they left Snart in the med lab that first night, Amaya and Mick strolled off uncertainly. Where were they going and what were they doing? Amaya wondered. It felt like they were floating along on air, mutually satisfied with the chemistry that filled the space between them and inspired so very many ideas. She let her eyes wander over to his and found him looking back, questions filling his gaze.

Stopping short in the corridor, Amaya sighed with a smile. "Hi," she said simply, and Mick nodded.

"Hi." The word, endlessly suggestive in that gorgeously rugged voice of his, urged on her every instinct to let him know how much she wanted him right then, any random passersby be damned. Amaya bit her lip.

"I don't know what to do about us," she admitted, toying with the tie of the soldier's uniform he still wore as his hands automatically rested on her hips, the touch light but provocative.

"I know," Mick replied, "Although I do have one idea." When Amaya raised her eyebrows in curiosity, he suggested, "Meet me in my room in an hour."

"Oh, really?" Amaya grinned. "How presumptuous of you."

"No, how presumptuous of _you_ ," Mick teased. "Get your mind out of the gutter." He had the nerve to wink. She crossed her arms in mock annoyance. "Bring your appetite," Mick added.

"See you then," she called over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her as she walked away and blushing furiously, still grinning like the Chesire cat.

Amaya couldn't remember the last time she'd felt compelled to dress up for any special reason, even back in her own time. Such occasions were few and far between when one was a Justice Society superhero, and decking herself out in period garb for the Legends' undercover missions didn't count due to its sheer artificiality.

"Dammit," Amaya sighed, knowing that there was only one person she could go to for help, and she was going to take a good deal of ribbing for this.

"So, Mick finally asked you on a real date," Sara observed crisply as Amaya walked into her quarters.

"Please, spare me the jokes about whether we're going to count beer cans first or just start setting things on fire," Amaya scowled defensively.

"Hey, I'm a judgement free zone," Sara declared, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Mick's really come into his own and proved himself to be a hero on these last few missions. We'll always joke about each other because we're _us_ , but that doesn't mean I can't understand what you see in him."

"Thank you," Amaya nodded, grateful for her friend's respect.

"Besides, I was going to ask if he was gonna cook you dinner with his flame gun," Sara put in, earning herself a faux swat from Amaya.

"Seriously though," Sara asked as they sat down, and she handed Amaya a glass of wine. "Are you sure you want to go any further with the relationship, given what you found out about your future, your destiny?"

Amaya took a sip of wine thankfully and replied, "I just can't seem to help myself when it comes to Mick. I had no problem breaking things off with Nathaniel because the timing was epically wrong…though of course, that wasn't the _only_ reason." Sara nodded, understanding that their incompatibility and Amaya's feelings for Mick were the other causes for the breakup.

"This is different," Amaya explained, leaning back in her chair and looking helplessly up at the ceiling, which of course offered no answers. "I know that if we're together, perhaps it can only be for a short time. Part of me feels like that's worth the pain that will come later, but I'm afraid of it, too."

"One thing's for sure," Sara noted, "We only live once, and despite all this time-hopping, it's obvious that life is too short to wonder what might have been."

"Thanks for listening," Amaya smiled.

"Anytime," Sara assured her, then walked to her closet and began pulling garments out and throwing them onto the bed. "Now, let's find you something to wear."

A little while later, Amaya tugged self-consciously at the short hemline of the black dress Sara had lent her. It was low-cut as well, making it seem like a garment designed to leave little to the imagination. Sara had assured her that she looked amazing, but Amaya felt overwhelmingly…bare. Standing outside Mick's door, she put on and then took off a black sweater several times, accidentally backing into the door and making a loud noise against it with her elbow. Oops. She hadn't decided yet if she should or shouldn't wear the sweater, but it happened to be off when Mick opened the door.

"Whoa," He said, looking at her in admiration, just a little too flawless himself in a plain black button-down shirt and gray pants. Amaya swallowed hard. She wasn't ready for how it was going to _feel,_ locking eyes with him, his smile so intent and hopeful, his appreciation of her attire all too obvious. A white-hot jolt of combined embarrassment and desire shot through her and she struggled to maintain her composure.

"You dressed up," Amaya blurted as she stepped inside, only to get the shock of her lifetime at the sight of his completely neat, clean, organized quarters. "What happened in here?" She breathed the question in disbelief.

"I cleaned up," Mick said pridefully, watching her eyes dart around the room. Recalling the act of cleaning with a shudder, he added, "It was horrible," and they both laughed.

Amaya couldn't help asking, "How is the closet looking right about now?"

Mick frowned and barred the path to it. "Whatever you do," he warned, "Don't open that door."

He was such an impossibly perfect combination of sexy and adorable that Amaya couldn't wait another moment. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Okay," Mick remarked as they pulled slightly apart, "Cleaning up is my new favorite hobby."

"And what's all this?" She gestured to a table nearby, which was set up for a lovely meal, complete with a rose in a small glass vase in the center of the table beside a candle. "Mick Rory," she accused, "Are you _blushing_?"

"I just…uhh…" Mick explained nervously, "I wanted to do something nice for you. It's not enough, but it's something. You saved me, and there's not much I can ever do to repay you. You deserve everything good, Amaya."

"So do you," She replied, "And I hope you see that now."

Mick shook his head. "Maybe I'm better than I thought, but I could never deserve you. Then again, who could? I just gotta say, you do what you think is right about us. I know the whole problem with you going back to your timeline and—"

"Mick, I'm not thinking about that now," Amaya cut him off, "I can't. Because nothing ever felt as right to me as what we have between us. It's been unexpected. It's been this amazing whirlwind overtaking me, and I _can't_ walk away from it. I won't."

Mick's eyes shone with emotion that he fumbled to find words to express. "I don't know how to say this because I've never felt this way about someone. You're the only one I…"

"Mick, it's okay," she reassured him as her heart skipped a beat, taking both his hands and lacing her fingers through his. "You can tell me anything."

"I've uh," Mick nodded as if encouraging himself to go on, "I've fallen for you, Amaya. I'm yours. You can do what you want with me because there's nothing I'd rather do than be with you." He looked down at their joined hands as if apprehensive of raising his head right then, so she tipped his chin up with her finger.

"Hey," Amaya said warmly, "I've fallen for you, too. You're a good man, Mick Rory. I've heard otherwise from plenty of people, including you, and I knew the whole time that you were all wrong about that. There's nowhere _I_ would rather be than here with you."

They looked at each other as a wave of astonished happiness hit them and seemed to propel them straight into one another's arms within a millisecond. Their lips collided and they kissed so passionately that it took Amaya's breath away. She found the buttons of Mick's shirt despite the new distraction of his lips trailing down her neck. Once it was removed, he looked at her as if torn between uncertainty that this could be real and the need to ask permission to continue. "Don't stop," Amaya whispered, pulling him closer, relishing the feeling of his bare, firm skin beneath her fingers, letting her touch rove over him shamelessly. It felt amazing to give vent to longings that had built up for so long.

"This dress," he murmured, his hands running up and down her body in the snug garment. She bit her lip in anticipation.

"Take it off," Amaya ordered him, and Mick slowly slid the zipper down, giving the dress a small tug that made it slide down. She stepped out of it, flicking her shoes off to the side as they resumed kissing and sloppily making their way to the bed without the benefit of looking where they were going. When she bumped into the mattress, Mick slid her black lace panties down and began to kiss her from her stomach… _downward_ until she arched her back and dug her fingers into his shoulder. Mick brought her right to the edge before grasping her by the waist and lowering her to the bed. Amaya moaned in helpless need for him to take her all the way, and their lips met in a fiery, demanding kiss. She could feel his hardness grinding against her and reached down to pull his pants off as he unhooked her bra. The feeling of his tongue circling her nipple while his fingers mirrored the motion on her other breast was something Amaya could only stand briefly before she found him with her hands and guided him inside her.

Mick groaned at the sensation of entering her as Amaya rocked her hips upward to take all of him in. Instinctively, he found a rhythm that finally pushed her so far into ecstasy that she found herself crying out as release finally came and she tightened around his arousal, shaking. Amaya clutched his neck and brought his lips back to hers just in time for him to moan achingly against her mouth as he came, his hands pressing desperately against her back.

After they both lay in near silence for a few minutes, limbs still tangled, the only sound their heavy breathing, Amaya turned to Mick with a smile. "You sure know how to thank a girl," she noted coyly.

"Oh, I'm not done thanking you," Mick assured her, leaning over her as she stroked his strong arms. "I'll thank you all night."

"I'm still feeling rather…grateful myself," Amaya replied. "But first, once I can actually _walk_ ," she said in mock accusation, "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Mick grinned, "Dinner!" He stood up, causing Amaya to giggle uncontrollably.

He looked back to find her blushing and shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to put some clothes back on, or we're never leaving this bed and we will both starve," Amaya explained, staring at his body with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Mick raised his eyebrows and climbed back over to her, playfully lifting the sheet to look again at her naked form before answering, "Right back at ya. Although there _are_ worse ways to go."

They managed to make it to the table, Amaya having thrown on one of Mick's soft, broken-in grey henley shirts, rolling the sleeves up and loving the sensation of this fabric that had touched him so often against her own skin. Mick had the audacity to only put his pants back on, for which Amaya planned to make him pay dearly.

"Don't worry," he explained, "I didn't cook this myself. I asked Gideon for help."

"Thank God," Amaya joked, laughing as he scowled jokingly at her. They dug into plates of pasta carbonara, and as Amaya took a sip of red wine, she nodded at Mick's own glass of water. "Where's your drink?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm taking a little break from that," Mick replied self-consciously. "I think I need some time to recover from what was done to my head before I make things any foggier up there."

"I'm impressed," Amaya remarked, "It's so…responsible of you."

"You're not gonna catch me doing anything else to mess this up," Mick promised. "But hey, what do you mean, _responsible_? Don't go repeating that anywhere," he demanded.

"How about…sweet, kind, and attentive?" Amaya suggested, her eyes sparkling. "And _extremely_ talented in bed?"

"I thought you wanted to eat," Mick pointed out, and Amaya nodded.

"Of course," she explained, "For stamina."

"You're trouble," Mick observed, continually amazed by her.

"Why do you think we get along so well?" Amaya asked. "And by the way, is there dessert?"

"Of _course_ there's dessert," he told her, removing two plates of chocolate cake and strawberries from the small fridge. "What do you take me for?"

"Do you have whipped cream in there as well?" Amaya asked playfully, enjoying the results of her mischief as they played out in Mick's astonished features with her every sexual implication.

"Did I say you were trouble, Vixen?" Mick asked, putting the plates down and kneeling beside her, "I was wrong. You're more than that. You're a dream come true."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Don't let go**

"Wake _uuup_ ," Amaya whispered in Mick's ear the next morning.

" _You_ wake up," he grumbled, rolling over and pulling the pillow on top of his head.

Laughing, she yanked the pillow away and smacked him with it playfully. "Well, fine, then. I'll be in the shower. I'm sure you don't mind if I use your shower, do you, Mick?"

"Huh?" He asked, grabbing the pillow back, not fully awake. He blinked at Amaya as she strode off to the bathroom and then he smiled.

"Oh, there you are," Amaya remarked as he stepped into the room with her. She finished brushing her teeth and waved her toothbrush back and forth. "Always come prepared," she explained regarding its presence.

"Agreed," Mick replied with a wink as she slipped out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He drank in the sight of her as she stepped into the shower. Mick brushed his own teeth, his gaze in the mirror locked on the curtain behind him.

"Are you coming in or what?" She called, and got her answer quickly as his powerful arms enfolded her beneath the hot water. Amaya wrapped her arms around Mick's neck and kissed him with unabashedly enthusiastic lust, gasping at his answering hardness against her.

Mick's capable hands traveled the length of Amaya's water-slicked body, fingers caressing the sides of her breasts, then her stomach and hips, finally hooking around her legs and guiding them up around his own hips.

Amaya moaned as he pressed her back against the wall, loving the sound of her name on his lips as he thrust into her and she lost herself again in a continually rising wave of intense passion. She bit down softly on Mick's neck, the taste of his wet skin helping to send her over the edge even more deliciously.

He set her down as she trembled slightly and Amaya couldn't help saying, "This is becoming a bit of a problem, isn't it?"

Mick wrapped her in his arms again as they applied the soap to each other in a lazily distracted manner. "How do you figure that?" His question was tempered with the amusement that all too obviously lived in her own wry, flirtatious tone.

"I'm starting to forget about everything else but this. Us. Dangerous, don't you think?" Amaya had started out in slight jest, but a serious glimmer came into her eyes now. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his searching blue gaze, a smile impossible to keep from her lips at the sight of his affectionate concern.

"Maybe," Mick acknowledged, reaching behind her to shut the water off and grabbing a towel for each of them. Amaya wrapped the towel around herself and sighed.

"I wish we could just be happy without all of the 'possible impending doom to my family's future timelines' problems," She admitted in a rush of melancholy.

" _Are_ you happy?" Mick asked, his voice so thick with emotion and solicitude that the other Legends wouldn't have recognized him in that moment. But she did.

"Right now? And for however long we can have each other?" Amaya nodded. "Yes, I am happy. I've never _been_ this happy."

Mick grinned. "Me neither," he admitted, before turning more serious. "I already told you that I wouldn't ask you to sacrifice your destiny to be with me."

"I don't know how to roll the dice on just how set in stone the future needs to be, risking my children, and my granddaughter — the future Vixen's— life in the gamble, and make peace with that," Amaya explained, pulling a pair of leggings from her bag and loosening the knot in which she'd tied them. She started getting dressed, warring emotions twisting within her.

"Here," Mick called, tossing something soft and welcoming through the air until it landed in Amaya's eager hands. Another of his familiar grey shirts. She shrugged it on gratefully. Again, it felt just as much like an embrace as his eyes on her, his smile, complicated and not free from worry of future heartbreak, but beautiful, real, loving.

"All I can say is that I'm here for you, in whatever way you want me to be," Mick said, throwing on a dark blue t-shirt and then stepping forward to take her hands. "Maybe we can work with Gideon to learn more about how immutable events really need to be to make sure your granddaughter is born."

"Immutable?" Amaya asked, her eyes widening at Mick's knowledgable proposal.

"I've been thinking a lot about this," he explained with a shy smile. "I even read a little about timelines and destinies and you know…stuff."

"Thank you," she told him, "I think that's a wonderful idea. It won't be easy and maybe we won't like what we learn, but it's a lot better than wondering and worrying, never putting in the effort to figure it out."

Mick opened his mouth to reply when a visitor showed up at the door of his quarters, a soft chime requesting entry. Startled at the interruption to their intense conversation, Mick nonetheless allowed the visitor in, only to find Leonard Snart standing there with a rather nasty, unfriendly expression on his face.

"So that's gonna be _it_ , huh, Mick?" Leonard asked accusingly, his smile dripping with sarcasm and anger. "Just keep me prisoner onboard this floating piece of garbage overpopulated with whining holier-than-thou do-gooders? No _point_ , no purpose, no profit in sight? And you're just going to wait for me to somehow magically change?"

"Don't talk about my ship like that," Mick growled, completely not in the mood, "Or my friends."

"Since when do you have _friends_?" Leonard demanded, walking into the room without an invitation. He noticed Amaya and smirked more deeply.

"Even _special_ friends, now, I see," Snart noted. "Getting ready for the walk of shame, sweetheart?"

Amaya shook her head and rolled her eyes as she put her boots on and zipped them. She walked right up to Leonard and told him, "I'm not ashamed of a damn thing. And if you really want to know about Mick having friends, why don't you start with yourself? From everything I've heard, you've been his best friend. Maybe if you begin to open your eyes, you can be again." She looked over at Mick and nodded. "I'll see you in the library? An hour from now?"

"You bet," Mick assured her.

"Dream on, darlin'," Snart called after Amaya as she exited. "I'll never change."

"Maybe you won't," Mick admitted. "But one thing's for sure: we'll see about that."

He took some more time to try and talk matters out with Snart. It was more than clear that getting through to their former teammate without the benefit of the experiences that had honed him into a hero in another life was probably going to be an extremely slow process.

"How did it go?" Amaya asked as he joined her in the library later. He shrugged, looking mentally and emotionally exhausted.

"It went," he replied with a sigh.

"We don't have to get into all of my…mess…while you're still worried about Leonard," Amaya said gently, but Mick shook his head.

" _Our_ mess," he corrected her, "And if it's about helping you to get some peace of mind, I'm ready to get started. Always."

They pulled up Amaya's timeline as it currently stood in Gideon's records, and the A.I. had a bit of news to share with them right away.

"I have to warn you, Ms. Jiwe, that there has recently been a very significant change to your timeline," Gideon explained, her voice serious, as if she were trying to prevent Amaya from getting a severe shock.

Afraid to look at the screen for fear she might have already somehow negated her granddaughter's existence, Amaya asked, "But how could that be? Nothing's changed. Well, _one_ part has, lately. How could one difference in my life alter things significantly?"

"Would the difference happen to be a burgeoning romance with Mr. Rory?" Gideon inquired archly.

"It…would," Amaya confessed, sharing slightly frightened and perplexed glances with Mick.

"But my dating Nathaniel didn't change my destiny, so how could this relationship do so?" Amaya mused, still too stressed to look at the information and learn the truth. Yet she already knew the answer to the question, so simple as it was.

"One might have conjectured that only a change that occurred after you returned to your own time would be able to alter your future, yet apparently, the significance of your relationship with Mr. Rory is strong enough to create such a change. However, Ms. Jiwe, if you'll look at what I have to show you, I think you might find it somewhat of a relief."

Amaya had, without realizing it, squeezed her eyes shut. She opened one as Mick put a protective and comforting hand on her shoulder, leaning in to look with her.

"I _will_ have a granddaughter one day…and her name is Mari," Amaya breathed in surprise and a release of all the dread that had been building up in her mind.

"Mari Jiwe… _Rory_ McCabe," Mick read aloud, his jaw dropping.

"But that means…" Amaya struggled to process the overwhelming information as Mick sank into the chair beside her, wide-eyed.

"The identity of one of Mari McCabe's grandparents has changed," Gideon pointed out, "Yet her chosen role in life remains unaltered."

"She still becomes Vixen," Mick observed as Amaya pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart.

"She's a hero," Amaya said, one tear sliding down her cheek as the reality sank in. "She still finds her destiny. She saves people."

The image of her granddaughter's face smiled at Amaya on the screen, the features slightly different but the look of fierce determination the same as it had ever been.

"What about my own children?" Amaya asked, another tear streaking her cheek.

"How deep do we wanna dig into this thing?" Mick asked, clearly worried that Amaya could become incredibly overwhelmed by this onslaught of knowledge. "Maybe there's only so much we need to know."

"Do I still have the same number of children?" Amaya asked Gideon haltingly.

"You do indeed, Ms. Jiwe. Or perhaps I ought to say, you will."

Well, that was good, anyway… _really_ good.

"If I may add, there is something to be said for the theory that this destiny is the one you were always meant for," Gideon put in. "While great minds have long debated the notions of immutability or the 'butterfly effect,' many would contend that you, Ms. Jiwe, were destined to join the Legends and therefore—"

"Destined to meet Mick," Amaya finished, sitting back and taking a few deep breaths.

"What do you think?" Mick asked her quietly, tentatively, after she'd been doing that for a few minutes. "I know it shouldn't be possible, but what if Gideon's right?"

Amaya opened her still tear-filled eyes; only unlike the last time she'd accessed the files on her own lifetime, they weren't tears of terror and sadness. Hope and joy, all jumbled up in an enormous pile of nerves, sang through her body and mind. "Mick, you once said you were starting to believe anything is possible. And I think I'm starting to agree."


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue: Puzzles and wonders, mysteries and such**

Mick and Amaya stayed on with the Legends for a year after that, with him taking a lead role in rehabilitating Leonard as the bond between the team grew ever stronger. They had wonderful adventures and righted countless aberrations, everyone progressing in the confidence they had in each of their own abilities and talents as well as the power they could only wield working together.

Then one day, Amaya knew it was time to go back to 1942. "I don't even know _how_ I know," she told Mick as they packed their belongings and prepared to leave the Wave Rider. "I just have this feeling that my village needs me, my family needs me to fulfill my legacy now. This necklace" — she touched her totem — "has a great destiny to continue."

"We agreed to stay until we felt ready to leave," Mick reminded her, running a hand over her cheek, shivers still running down her spine even at his simplest touch. "We are now. Makes perfect sense to me."

"So what's Mick Rory going to do in the 1940's? In a small African village, no less? Not much to steal there, you know," Amaya warned with a smirk as they headed for the jump ship that would bring them to the surface now that they had arrived in her time.

"It's a funny thing, but somehow, I don't think I'll be bored," Mick winked, sliding an arm easily around her shoulders. After a few moments, he suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor and dropped his bag to the floor, a serious look in his eyes that made her halt as well. "There's uh, there's something I've been wanting to say to you." The gruff tenderness in his voice tangled itself around her heartstrings.

"Yes?" Amaya smiled, slipping her hands around his waist and looking up at him curiously.

"Marry me," Mick blurted nervously, then cleared his throat as her eyes went enormous. "I mean, someday. If you want to. I mean, cause I want to. If you want—"

Amaya cut the rest of the words off with a deep kiss, his arms tightening around her, before she replied, "Yes. I _do_ want to." She picked her bag up from the floor, then handed Mick his own. "But you're going to need a ring the next time you ask."

He stared after her for a moment, overwhelmed by her acceptance, as she resumed walking. Amaya felt as if it were pure, effervescent air and not the floor of the Wave Rider beneath her boots.

The rest of the team bade them an emotional farewell. Sara wiped tears away as she gave Amaya a huge hug, clinging to her friend lovingly.

"Don't guess I'll ever see _you_ again," Snart said to Mick, shabbily concealing his true feelings with cold unconcern.

"Don't be so sure," Mick replied, "You guys can call on us anytime we're needed." Understanding the small light of happiness that jumped into Leonard's eyes with those words, he embraced his friend, ignoring Leonard's grumbles that they were acting "soft" and like "losers" who actually cared about each other.

"You've brought Mr. Snart a long way, Mr. Rory," Rip noted respectfully. "Though of course he had to _accept_ your help and develop from there. It's quite an amazing accomplishment and a testament to true friendship."

"The friendship we all share," Stein added as Jax and Nate nodded whole-heartedly.

"Oh, come on!" Mick complained in a growl, rolling his eyes, "Now you _are_ acting like weak-ass losers."

"Aw, why do you have to say it like that?" Ray asked, "It reminds me why we love you so much."

"Shut up, Haircut," Mick snarled, though the affection twinkling in his eyes was obvious. "No need to start throwing the 'L' word around. And if you hug me, I'll—"

"Shave my head?" Ray asked, laughing. "I'm gonna risk it!" He took the hug, briskly stepping back and mock-hiding behind the others immediately afterwards. "I actually really like my hair," he explained.

"Despite Mick's comments, we will miss each and every one of you terribly," Amaya declared warmly. She looked up and said, "That includes you, Gideon. It's been a superb honor."

"Likewise, Ms. Jiwe," Gideon answered pleasantly. "I send you and Mr. Rory off with my very best wishes for a long and happy life together."

"If I'm with Amaya, I can't seem to help being happy," Mick said, giving into a momentary grin. "And I _will_ miss you morons. But if any of you go spreading that around—"

"You'll kill us?" The other Legends replied in unison. He nodded happily.

"After all this time, they finally get it," Mick observed as Amaya jokingly elbowed him.

The years brought much joy, along with many trials and the occasional sorrow, and the Legends did indeed call upon Amaya and Mick when their formidable skills were a perfect fit for the latest mission. Life in Zambesi was sweet, simple in its complexity, replete with the beauty of nature and the unending support of the community. In time, Mick and Amaya were married and had a daughter together, the vibrantly brilliant girl who would grow up to be Mari McCabe's mother.

Mick Rory had learned that by facing his inner demons and fighting for redemption, not only for himself, but for those he loved, he could be a true hero and a better man than he'd ever thought possible.

Amaya Jiwe had found that life held more fantastically surprising twists in store than could ever be anticipated by carefully planning each move with fear and repressing her own needs for happiness. She took an unexpected path back to her home, and an unconventional chance on love that somehow converged in a life so close to perfect bliss that she felt chills thinking about it over the years. She thought about how hesitation and worry of consequence had almost stopped her from being honest with herself and Mick, and how fate had made their two worlds collide at just the ideally improbable moment to make this all possible.

As they would often remind their daughter, a chance taken for the right reasons was always worthwhile. Because Amaya and Mick's love proved that anything was possible.


End file.
